FFVI: Aftermath's Nightmare
by Lauryl Rhismerith
Summary: An FFVI fic, postKefka. A natural disaster forces our heroes into another adventure. Chapter 3 is up.
1. The Day After

Author's Note:

This is an experimental story that has been adapted from an original I started writing a while back. I suddenly found it going in a "fantasy" direction and then became unsure of what to do with it. Then I was inspired to try something different. As the one year anniversaries for Hurricanes Katrina and Rita (or "Katrita" as some of us Louisianians less-than-affectionately call them now) are quickly approaching, and my life has been so greatly affected by them, I thought I'd do a dedication in the style of Final Fantasy VI (my absolute favorite video game from the day my parents bought it for me in 1994 to this day). The name of the guilty party has NOT been changed, but altered slightly to make it fit more smoothly into the story. Hope you enjoy.

**FFVI: Aftermath's Nightmare**

_Chapter 1: The Day After_

Locke opened his eyes to find himself in a place that seemed familiar, though the darkness and dizziness kept him from figuring out exactly why. All he knew was that, wherever he was, it was uncannily hot for an early February day. As he lay there, blinking and waiting for his eyes to adjust, he noticed that it wasn't just hot, it was stiflingly and suffocatingly so—the kind of heat you feel on a humid, mid-summer's day in South Figaro.

_South Figaro. _Dusty rays of light trickled through cracks in the ceiling above him, revealing barrels, wooden crates, and other still unidentifiable piles of junk. The walls surrounding him were made of wooden support beams that joined together in steeple formation above him.

He suddenly knew where he was.

An attic. But not just any attic. The attic of his house in South Figaro. And that partly explained the heat, but it was still unseasonable. Though he guessed that if it were possible that he was in South Figaro, then it was possible that he could also be in a different month.

This last thought became more salient as he realized that he was in a place that probably no longer existed, at least not in the state that he was currently seeing it. Last August, Hurricane Katarita had ransacked the city, leaving very little untouched, including his own neighborhood that was flooded by the breached levee of Grandor canal. Although he had returned to the remains of his house on several occasions, he did not have the heart to even walk through the doorway (there was no door left), much less search for anything salvagable or begin cleaning up. As it was with many of his fellow South Figaroans who lost everything, the thought of dealing with the mess was simply too overwhelming and way too depressing. The bright scarlet 'X' and the green-brown bands that lined the top of his house told him all he needed to know: that starting over here was improbable, if not impossible. So he had avoided it and tried his best to pretend it had never happened.

So why was he here now? And where was Celes?

Deciding to push all thoughts of the strangeness aside (after all, nothing should be capable of surprising him after the whole ordeal with Kefka) Locke stood and was suddenly aware of the distictive sound of lapping water from outside the house. He then noticed the sound of men's voices, yelling in panic. Next he heard a heavy _thwok!_ and felt a slight shiver run though the wooden frame around him. It happened again and again, and finally a beam of light shot through a newly formed hole in the attic wall.

"Locke! Are you in there!" a voice he hadn't heard in a while called out.

"…Yeah!" Puzzled, Locke responded hesitantly, his voice wavering. _What the hell is going on?_

Finally the hole had opened enough that he could see the face of the man breaking into his house. Sabin, his friend and comrade-in-arms, peered through the opening and looked at Locke in wonder. He seemed to be bobbing up and down.

"Are you ok? Is there anyone else in there with you?"

"I…I think I'm fine. Do you know where Celes is?" Locke glanced around to make sure he was alone.

"She's not in there with you? I'm sorry it took me so long, but I came as soon as I could. It's chaos out here…almost like the world's endin'! Now stay back until I tell you!"

"What's going on?"

There was no answer; Sabin was chopping again. When the hole was big enough for Locke to fit through, he heard a metallic clunk and saw Sabin motion for him to crawl through.

"Why can't I just go downstairs and get out that way?"

Sabin stared at Locke dumbfoudedly. "Umm…because it's…impassable? Now c'mon! Hurry! We can talk later! There's a ton of other people that need savin'!"

Locke slowly approached the hole cautiously, anxiety rising in his throat at what he might find on the other side. However, that anxiety did not prepare him for what he what he saw when he got there. He felt a distant sensation of his jaw dropping and his knees starting to give way as the shock hit him and set in.

Suddenly, everything shut down and Locke was only vaguely aware of hands pulling him through the opening and onto a warm, wooden surface.

-

When Locke opened his eyes for the third time that day, all he could see was an overcast sky and treetops that seemed closer to him than they should be. The floor beneath his back rose and fell as if he were on a boat; and he sat up to discover that, to his dismay, he was. And that what he had seen had to have been a living nightmare.

"Sir Locke! Thou hast awakened, dear friend!" a relieved Cyan exclaimed. "Though I am dreadfully sorry that thou must awaken to a nightmare and not from one."

Locke, Sabin, and Cyan were floating alongside of rooftops, treetops, and other such things that should not be at eye level when in a boat. Their "street" was oily, brackish water that smelled putrid and went on as far as he could see. He could only stare in disbelief. Next to him, Sabin shook his head.

"The Grandor Canal broke this morning. Arment Canal, too. That's what caused the flooding. We were all so worried about the river and the lake, we never even thought of the canals," Sabin snorted. "So much for the Edgar's assurances that their walls could withstand any storm."

And with those words, Locke's fears and suspicions were confirmed, and the nausea began.

He was in the heart of the aftermath of Hurricane Katarita.

"_Holy Light of Judgment!_" was the only response he could manage. But it was only partly because he was surrounded by 6-7 feet of water. He had talked to many of the survivors, so he had an idea of what it was like. But the key words here were _had_ and _was_. Katarita happened months ago, and he had evacuated two days before she struck. Edgar had sent out hundreds of carrier pigeons, warning all of South Figaro's citizens that the weather scholars had detected menacing patterns in the air currents. The only people who hadn't left were the fools and the lower-class, and, thanks to the Returners' victory over Kefka, he was neither one of those. So how was he here? Had he actually gone back in time? Or was someone playing a very elaborate and cruel joke on him? And where was Celes? Had she stayed behind, too? An endless number of questions began popping into his head, and when Cyan interrupted them by handing him a bottle of water and some crackers, Locke was thankful for several reasons. Cyan smiled grimly.

"Take care to appreciate those. Food and drink are rare jewels around the city right now. If Katarita didn't take it, the monsters did."

Locke realized he was hungry and thirsty and finished his "meal" while trying to think of what to do next. But Cyan interrupted again.

"So why didst thou not evacuate?"

Locke gave the only response he could think of quickly enough.

"I guess I didn't take it seriously enough."

"And where's Celes?" Sabin raised a curious eyebrow at him.

"I don't know." Locke shook his head.

Not knowing how to explain the fact that he didn't know where his wife was and not wanting his friends to pry too much, Locke quickly asked, "What are you two doing here?"

"Edgar knew that there'd be people to save. Y'know, South Figaro is always being threatened by these things and they're always talking about how it could happen but they always get lucky. Edgar knew everyone would think it'd just be another one of those times."

"Yeah…well, we still did get lucky in a way. You know, with Northtown not getting much damage or flooding."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Locke realized he had slipped up. Sabin narrowed his eyes.

"How did you know that Northtown is ok?"

"Uh…I mean, I figured it would be…since it's higher up…so is that's how you knew I was there? Edgar knew I stayed behind?" Locke quickly changed the subject, and Sabin didn't seem perturbed.

"Yeah, he sent me a carrier and told me that he hadn't gotten word from you that you were gonna evacuate. We thought it was strange, especially that you weren't gonna at least stay over there since it's not far. But he asked me to check up on you so I said ok. Cyan was around at the time and volunteered to help."

"Well…thanks. So where are we going now?"

"The Market District. It didn't flood either so that's where a lot of the relief workers and the rest of the Returners are. They have supplies, and Setzer's been using the Falcon to evacuate people from there. Edgar's trying to get the IAF's old ships to help, but most of them were too heavily damaged in the Catastrophe and haven't been repaired yet."

"What are we gonna do about Celes?"

"You have no idea where she is?" Sabin looked at him quizzically.

"No."

"When was the last time you remember seeing her?"

"Ummm…I'm not sure. I don't remember much of what happened from before I passed out in the attic."

"But she stayed behind with you, right?"

Locke was suddenly tempted to tell his friends the truth: that he shouldn't be here, that none of this was right, that he had in fact left and stayed at the Figaro Castle while the storm ravaged the city, that he had gone back in time…

But the last thing that he needed was for them to think that the ordeal had driven him mad. They would surely put him on the Falcon and send him straight to the castle, where he would undoubtedly be forced to lie in a bed and do nothing while the others did all the rescuing. He couldn't have that, especially when it came to his wife.

"Yes," he firmly lied.

"Perhaps the good lady hast gone to rescue some unfortunate soul herself?" Cyan suggested.

"Hey, that's good thinking!" Sabin exclaimed, and then scratched his chin. "But why would she leave Locke and not tell him where she was going?"

"Who knows…you all know how independent she is." Locke took care to make sure he wasn't griping too much.

"Maybe she was abducted."

"Or perhaps she hast washed away…"

"Guys! You're not helping me feel any better."

"Sorry, Locke." Sabin frowned.

"My humblest apologies, Sir Locke," Cyan began.

"It's ok." Locke cut him off. "Let's just get to the Market District and see if Edgar has any of those airships ready. We won't be able to make much progress in a boat, and I'm beginning to feel sea—ah, floodsick."

_To be continued (maybe)…_

P.S. Like I said above, this is experimental. If people like it, I'll continue. If not, I'm dumping it and using my time for other things—like school, which drives me crazy so please give me a reason to continue!


	2. Searching for Friends

_Chapter 2: Searching for Friends_

Celes could have sworn she had stepped into a gaudy painting by one of Jidoor's deranged artists. Pastel colors wafted through the air as though someone had attempted to splatter weightless, multi-hued paint onto non-existent surfaces. Being a general and therefore more of a left-brainer, she did not have much of an eye for styles and shades—but she knew horrendous when she saw it.

And the stairs did not improve matters at all. Staircases littered the "room" like flyaway newspapers in the streets of Vector. Literally. They ascended and descended at all manner of angles as if they too had been tossed carelessly in the wind and been blown around. But worst of all was that they seemed to be nonsensical. Some led to dead ends, others up to platforms that returned her back to the same level a few steps later. Then there were the ones that led to doors that brought her to places that could not have possibly been physically connected to her previous position.

The whole labyrinthine arrangement, combined with the no-so-easy-on-the-eyes color scheme, was dizzying and completely illogical—and Celes was quite sick of it. If this was what the inside of her husband's soul looked like, she could not begin to fathom the mess that lay within her own, and she would never again wish to explore the depths of it.

-

On the way to the Market District, Sabin, Cyan, and Locke passed sights that Locke never thought he'd see in his lifetime: humps of roadways sticking up out of the water, furniture floating around aimlessly… As they got closer to dry land, Locke saw more and more people wading through the filth, trying to find safety and screaming at them to pick them up. People trapped on balconies and stuck on roofs cried, yelled, and flailed their arms to get Sabin's attention. Sabin stopped the boat to pick up a few, but as the boat was small, he had to turn down many—assuring them that another boat would come by shortly. In the distance, Locke thought he heard the snarls and roars of monsters. He turned to Sabin.

"Is that what I think it is?"

Cyan nodded. "The beasts seem to be flocking in this area—as if something sinister draws them near."

Locke found this bit of information rather puzzling. After the fall of Kefka, monster sightings and attacks had drastically diminished, and the Returners had made it a point to annihilate any of the leftovers that had been seen. Nearly two years later, they still received an occasional report, but Locke couldn't remember any monster-related issues occurring during or after the storm. Why were they appearing this time around?

Before he could wonder anymore, the men rounded the corner of what appeared to be the weapon shop (no one could be sure because the water was covering the sign), and Locke glimpsed Terra and Shadow in the midst of a battle with a herd of Buffalax on the walkway above. He recognized the glow and hum of Illumina in Terra's hands and felt strangely comforted.

"Terra! Shadow!" he cried, and as soon as the boat reached the only partially submerged stairway, he vaulted onto the stairs and grabbed for his beloved knife, Graedius.

But not surprisingly, the weapon was not at his hip. He suddenly remembered leaving it on the kitchen table.

Shadow did not spare Locke a single glance or word, but retained his concentration on his current foe. Terra, however, was distracted and turned her head to look at Locke. The Buffalax she was fighting took the opportunity to lunge at her, but her reflexes quickly took over and she darted to the side, plunging Illumina into its ribs. The monster moaned and collapsed in a heap that oozed gooey brown blood. Sabin and Cyan had joined the fray, and within a matter of minutes the remaining Buffalax were dispatched.

"Very impressive! You still have what it takes, I see!" Locke smiled at Terra, who beamed back at him and came rushing into his arms for a hug.

"I'm just glad that those monsters that were left after we defeated Kefka forced us to keep up with our training…" She then stepped back, regarded him as though he might vanish any moment, and whispered in disbelief, "You're ok."

"Of course I am-"

"Locke Cole!" And in an instant she was infuriated. "Why didn't you get out of here! Why did you make us worry about you! And furthermore, where is Celes?"

Shadow saved Locke from having to answer her questions. "We can discuss all that in a moment. Setzer's back," he remarked and pointed at the sky.

Meanwhile, Sabin and Cyan had been helping the citizens that they had rescued climb out of the boat. Terra ran to grab blankets, water, and food while they waited for the Falcon to land.

"Where does he bring them?" Sabin shouted above the whir of the Falcon's propellers.

"Everywhere," Terra answered. "Kohlingen, Narshe, Nikeah, Albrook, Tzen, Maranda, and Thamasa all have shelters set up to house them."

"Not Jidoor?"

Terra shrugged. "They never responded to Edgar's letters."

"Snobs." Locke spat in disgust. He never had liked Jidoor, with its wealthy citizens who had always looked down on their middle-class Kohlingenean neighbors to the north. Jidoor's snubbing of the less fortunate was one thing that certainly hadn't changed in this alternate reality.

When the Falcon reached the ground, the group of friends began ushering the victims on board. As soon as Locke had set foot on deck, a wind-swept and smiling Setzer rushed to greet him.

"Locke, you made it through!"

"Just barely, it seems. Cyan and Sabin found me camped out in my attic."

Setzer looked taken aback. "What in the name of the goddesses were you doing _there_?"

"I'm not sure. I think maybe something hit me on the head and knocked me out."

"And your lovely wife?" The gambler raised his eyebrows curiously, and Locke watched the scars on his forehead crinkle.

"I need you to help me find her."

Setzer responded with a _tsk-tsk_. "Still haven't learned to control that woman, have you?"

Locke grimaced but was pleased that his friend didn't pry any further.

"Anyway," Setzer continued, his brow furrowing, "I hate to tell you this, as much as I cherish Celes and all, but the reinforcements haven't arrived yet and we haven't heard back from the other Returners… I'm all the townspeople have right now, and there's still so many of them that need to be relocated. But…if you feel up to it, I can take you to Figaro. I'm sure Edgar can work something out for you. Maybe he has one of those old IAF ships ready…"

-

The Falcon was ready to depart again, and the six Returners had gathered around the stern. They all seemed restless and in a hurry to get things moving.

"Gee, Locke," Sabin scratched his head uncertainly in response to Locke's request for assistance. "I'd love to go with you, but there's still a lot of people here—and we know where they are. I think I'd better stick around. You won't be upset with me, will you?"

Locke was disappointed, but shook his head. He understood the circumstances.

"I will remain here as well," Shadow stated simply.

"Well, he can't go alone!" Terra interjected. "I won't let him!"

"Nor will I," Cyan agreed. "I will accompany thee, Sir Locke, if it pleases thee."

"Of course. I'll take any help I can get." Locke looked at Setzer, Sabin, and Shadow. "Please don't feel bad, you guys. You _are_ needed here. We'll be fine."

Sabin nodded. "It's settled then. Be sure to keep in touch through carrier pigeon. When everyone's accounted for, we'll meet at the castle."

-

The flight to Figaro Castle went smoothly. While Locke had always felt that his relationship with Setzer was that of two competitors, he secretly admired the way the gambler could handle the ship without inciting nausea in the passengers. And for the few times that the trips hadn't been so smooth, Setzer had simply handed him a bottle of bourbon and said, "That should fix things right up."

The treasure hunter had stood at the railing during takeoff in order to get a bird's-eye view of the city. The disaster was even more astounding from above; he could now see the whole expanse of the flooded area. Rooftops and treetops were about the only things visible for miles. His stomach sank. If Celes were down there somewhere, how would he ever find her?

"Look there!" he heard Setzer shout. The gambler was pointing a finger in the direction in which they were proceeding. The ships occupants had been so engrossed in the view below that they had previously failed to notice three large, dark shapes heading toward them.

"'Tis the Imperial Air Force!" Cyan declared.

"Royal Air Force now," Setzer corrected.

"Who cares! At least they're making progress!"" Terra shouted, running from the rear of the ship. Upon joining the men, she beamed, "I knew Edgar would get things in order!"

Setzer looked at Locke and cupped his hand over the side of his mouth—its corners turned up slyly.

"I don't know about you, but I'm wondering if she didn't agree to join you for the sole purpose of seeing her loverboy again," he quipped, obviously loud enough for Terra to hear.

"I heard that, you wretched beast!" the affronted Terra retorted.

Setzer gasped in mock astonishment, "You _didn't_!" He then grinned devilishly to the sky before him.

-

After a quick goodbye to the roguish gambler, Locke, Cyan, and Terra entered Figaro Castle to find it abuzz with an excitement ten times that of its normal output. The trio had to sidestep many a scurrying messenger in order to reach the basement where they were sure to find Edgar.

During previous crises, the king had always refused to remain in his audience chamber, stating that he should be a part of the action and it would not do to just hear about it and then give orders The Returners also knew that their mechanically-minded friend would want to participate firsthand in the repair and dispatch of the Air Force's ships. They figured that he could very well be attending to the nuts, bolts, screws, and nails himself.

The workshop was rather noisy, filled with the buzzing and hissing of drills and torches. Edgar's chancellor Britton, who was a stickler for formalities, ran up ahead to alert the king of the Returners' arrival. After a few seconds, Edgar and Britton had made their way through the throng of workers and airship parts; and Locke saw that their earlier assumptions were not far off. The wisps of hair that usually escaped Edgar's ponytail were plastered to his face, which glistened with perspiration. Dark, greasy streaks were smeared on his neck, cheeks, and nose.

"Locke!" he yelled, pulling the treasure hunter into an odiferous hug. The king reeked of oil, metal, and sweat. Locke imagined that he didn't smell much better. Edgar then took Terra's hand and endowed it with a quick peck and then shook Cyan's hand warmly.

"I apologize for being so blunt," Edgar began before Locke could say anything, "but there's not much time for questions or chit-chat. What do you need?"

"Celes is missing. I was wondering if we could use an airship to find her."

"You're in luck. We've just completed work on the fourth one." Edgar then lowered his voice and regarded him seriously. "I'll let you take it, provided you promise to find her as soon as possible, bring her back safely, and then help with the rest of the victims."

"You have my word."

"Excellent!…Britton!" he turned and shouted straight into his chancellor's face.

The man blinked once, but was otherwise unphased. "Yes, my liege?"

"See to it that the next ship is ready to depart in five minutes!"

"Certainly, my liege!" Britton bowed stiffly and disappeared into the crowd.

"Now, weapons and armor! Terra, I see you still have Illumina and the Minerva. And Cyan, you have Sky Render and Force Armor. Locke, I'm assuming that all of your knives and daggers have been left in South Figaro? Unfortunately, as I know you would prefer something smaller and lighter, all I have here to offer you is Excalibur, Scimitar, Atma Weapon and some other lesser blades. I think Celes had taken Ragnarok with her. But you can have your pick from the other ones."

"Hmmm…Atma, I guess. And Genji Armor."

"Very well."

-

Not twenty minutes later, the group found themselves on the deck of one of the newly revamped airships. Locke stared at the plethora of levers, buttons, gears, and gauges in wonder.

"We should've requested a pilot." He sighed. "Any clue how to operate this thing?"

Cyan regarded him in disdain. "I regret that I can only say no, my friend. Thou art aware of my feelings toward these…abominations, art thou not?"

"It can't be that much different from the Falcon or the Blackjack…can it?" Terra asked.

The two men shrugged.

"Well, move out of the way. We're going to find out."

Cyan's eyes widened, and Locke went below deck to see about the ship's liquor supply.

_To be continued..._


	3. Another World of Beasts

Chapter 3: Another World of Beasts 

Note: I apologize in advance for the Snakes on a Plane reference. I was writing this while it was out and I couldn't resist. I'd change it, but I really don't feel like it.

Celes heard the little boy before she saw him. He was humming a tune that she recognized from her childhood—one that was known for scaring children into hiding beneath their bedcovers at night. It was taunting her…and daring her to peek out from underneath.

She could finally see him over the top of the staircase. He was on his hands and knees and was frantically rubbing something against the floor: a piece of chalk. His blond curls that hid his face bounced angelically as he continued his relentless back-and-forth motion. There was something familiar about him, but she couldn't place it.

As her foot hit the final step, he froze and cut of his song in mid-echo.

"We didn't expect you so soon."

Celes glanced around before realizing that he was addressing her. She wasn't sure of the appropriate response, so she remained silent.

The boy awkwardly climbed to his feet and faced her. He was all skin, bones, and knobby knees. A pair of too-innocent gray eyes took her in.

"Are you lost?" was all she could manage.

One corner of his mouth turned up. "Not as lost as you're about to be."

"Celes!"

She spun to her right to find a familiar figure climbing a second set of stairs. Relm stopped to catch her breath before spitting out a characteristic string of swears.

"I've had it with these $& stairs in this $& alternate dimension!"

Celes looked back at the boy, who was staring at Relm with an expression that suggested he was in trouble.

"You again?"

"That's right, punk! And I will not hesitate to kick your puny ass the same way I did last time!"

He took a step back and held out his arms as if to defend himself.

"Not so high and mighty without your brothers around, are you, you spineless simpleton?!"

The boy's face turned sinister, his pupils dilating so much that the whole of his eyes became black. "That will be quite enough of that!" he hissed through jagged teeth. Celes then realized that he hadn't been backing off at all—he was summoning something.

"I leave you with a gift until my brothers can join me." He smiled wickedly before fleeing through the door behind him.

Three "things" suddenly appeared in the air before them. They appeared to be boxes with the lids pulled halfway back. Celes recognized them as Pan Doras.

"You've _go_t to be kidding me," Relm groaned. "How low-level do they think we are?"

"Don't underestimate them!" Celes cautioned, brandishing Ragnarok. "We don't have magic anymore, remember?"

"Yada yada yada." Relm faked a yawn and fished around in her bag for her paints. The monsters fled as soon as she produced her brush. "See? Piece of cheesecake."

"I've never seen Pan Doras behave like that before," Celes mused.

"That's because they've seen the work of The Great Mistress of Canvas and Oils—Relm Arrowny!" Relm boasted. "And they have learned that art is their worst nightmare."

"Well, ok then Miss Arrowny…." Celes waved a hand in the air to indicate the floating colors. "If you're so talented, how about fixing up _this_ nightmare?"

"That would require more turpentine than I've seen in my life!" Relm looked around in amazement. "Now, shall we follow it?"

-

Celes was quite relieved that the door that they followed the boy through appeared to have brought them to a completely new area. The theme was the same—senseless staircases and clashing colors—but the layout was definitely different.

She gave up on trying to keep track of time—every time she looked at her pocket watch, it showed an improbable time. She had conducted several experiments; one involved checking it every minute to find that the hands would go back (or maybe it was forward) a whole two hours, twenty minutes, or three seconds. Strangely enough though, she could never catch it changing times: when she tried to watch it, it seemed to behave normally.

So after what Celes thought should have been a half hour of wandering around, they made their next discovery.

The humming had returned, but this time it was accompanied by a loud, childish voice. Although the echo made it impossible to understand what the voice was saying, they had no trouble recognizing the intonation.

"Gau!" the girls cried out in unison. They raced down the flight of stairs they were currently descending, climbed up another, and saw two boys on a platform below them. They were both scribbling on the floor with chalk. One was Gau, the other was a chubby boy with a buzz cut.

"Gau!" Relm shouted. "Get away from it!"

Both boys looked up. Gau waved. "Relm! Celes! Gau make new friend!"

"No Gau!" Relm yelled again. "That's not a friend!"

"Friend say Gau can stay and help color!"

"Gau, don't go anywhere! We'll meet you down there!"

"Ok!"

"Try not to lose sight of him!" Relm implored Celes as they attempted to make their way below.

By the time they made it to the platform, the boy had vanished, but Gau was still busy coloring. Three doors were lined up on the wall behind him.

"Hi Relm! Hi Celes!"

"Which way did it go?" Relm asked.

Gau pointed to the rightmost door.

"Good, let's go."

"Gau want to color more."

"Later." Relm grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet. "We have business to take care of."

-

The door led them to another similar area, and Celes was exhausted.

"Does this ever end?"

"After we find the third one, which should be soon…hopefully."

"Mog." Gau stated simply.

Relm gasped. "Mog! I completely forgot he came with us!"

Celes realized that she had forgotten, too. In fact, until she was reunited with Relm and Gau, she had forgotten that they had agreed to help.

"It's so easy to forget in this place. Must be a side-effect of breathing this disgusting air. I'm sure that's Wrexsoul's doing." Relm frowned absently. "Anyway, I'm sure Mog's with the third brother. It worked that way when we were here before, and it seems to be working that way this time."

"Relm…" Celes spoke up. "What are you talking about? "

"Demons."

Celes raised her eyebrows.

"Yes, the Dream Stooges are demons. They're Wrexsoul's pawns. They transported us here."

"Who is Wrexsoul?"

"The Wrecker of Souls, of course. Didn't you hear about what happened to Cyan?"

Celes thought back. She vaguely remembered overhearing a snippet of a tale about tracking down the swordsman in some bizarre, alternate reality. So much had been going on at the time, and she and Cyan hadn't been particularly fond of each other, so she hadn't paid much attention and never heard the full story.

"Not really," she admitted sheepishly.

"Wrexsoul detects weakened, cracked souls…and he breaks them. Then he devours them."

"So Locke's soul is cracked?"

"Most likely, since we're here."

"And I'm guessing we have to find and defeat Wrexsoul in order to restore it?"

"Pretty much."

"Where can we find him?"

"I'm not sure. After we defeated the Dream Stooges last time, we were brought to Doma Castle, thought it wasn't _really_ Doma…maybe more like a memory of Doma. Wrexsoul was there. I would imagine that since Locke doesn't have ties to Doma, we won't be going there."

"Why would the Dream Stooges let us in if they know we're here to defeat Wrexsoul?"

"Because they want our souls, too. After we got back, we went over it a gazillion times. The theory that we decided on is that they can only capture weakened souls here, so they draw us in and hope that, between the mist and the stair maze, we get lost, forget everything, and fall into despair. That's when they gain access."

Celes thought for a moment. Relm's words seemed logical, if anything could be so in such a bizarre place.

Her expression became stony.

"Well, let's be sure that we don't give them what they want."


End file.
